


A Body Like Mortal Sin

by junko



Category: Bleach
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:59:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya has never heard of this Sixth Seat who has applied for the vacant lieutenancy, so he decides to go see Renji Abarai for himself....</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Body Like Mortal Sin

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, and hey, this is a fill for the Renji Birthday Bash. It's kind of slapdash, but I thought that posting something here might draw people's attention. Come join us! There's four more days until Renji's birthday and Josey (cestus) and I want to give him something special. Can't you do some fan works for him? Pretty please with tattoos and red pineapples on top??!!??
> 
> Also, here's your chance to prompt me. If you WISH, WISH, WISH I'd write some Renji crack pairing of yours, tell me what it is in the comments and I'll see how many I can fill in the next four days!
> 
> Quick note: this takes place while Renji is still in the 11th, though there are mild spoilers (or implied spoilers at any rate) for current manga chapters.

This was a fool’s errand, Byakuya thought to himself as he strode through the Eleventh Division’s front gate. 

No one here would make a suitable lieutenant. The lot of them were unwashed pigs.

However, there was a candidate—a person Byakuya knew nothing at all about, except that he must be full of himself. He was some bold as brass Sixth Seat, who seemed to think he could jump ranks to a lieutenancy. 

From a Sixth Seat.

It was beyond insulting.

But, the bigger insult was that there had been so few other applicants. Byakuya’s own Third Seat had refused advancement. He simply wasn’t ambitious and wanted to stay in the seat he held until retirement. Byakuya would be more affronted, but the Third Seat was old—he’d served Byakuya’s grandfather and, if the rumors were true, his great-grandfather, as well.

No one else in the Sixth Division had applied. Not terribly surprising since Byakuya made it very clear that the standards were high. But, he’d expected a flood of hopefuls from outside the Sixth. 

Apparently, Byakuya’s reputation for being a stickler for the rules had kept a lot of other candidates at bay. At least, that was the excuse Captain Ukitake suggested when Byakuya confessed his disappointment in the choices.

Only three applicants. And, this Eleventh division thug was the only person Byakuya knew nothing about, which automatically made him more promising.

Normally, Byakuya would make the applicant come to him. But, Zaraki unwittingly gave Byakuya an excuse to surreptitiously watch the young man in action. By chance, this weekend was the free-for-all blood-fest that the Eleventh used to determine their seat ranking. Byakuya had received the yearly invitation for decades, always choosing to ignore it, despite the fact that for many of the Gotei captains it was a kind of murderous Hanami, the social event of the season. Unohana apparently never missed one. The head captain, Soi Fon, Ichimaru, Aizen, Kyōraku and a number of other captains were regular attendees, and half the rank and file of the Gotei showed up throughout the weekend just to watch the gladiator-style mayhem. 

Some of it was pure slaughter; too, as the doors to the Rukongai were opened to any fool who thought she or he could take on the Kenpachi and win.

After all, that was how Zaraki had won his title, not that long ago.

Byakuya followed the crude signage that led him around several out buildings to one of the old Hollow pits. This one fell within the boundary of the Eleventh’s barracks and had been formed into a huge arena. Rickety-looking stadium style seating had been built up around the pit, and even those seats furthest from the action were already filled. The invitation and the small fee Byakuya had paid, however, guaranteed him a decent vantage point. 

He handed his invitation to an usher, who wove him through the teaming throng. People sat on blankets and under parasols to ward off the summer heat. There were vendors walking through the crowds selling snacks of all varieties, as well as beer and sake. Some groups had ‘team’ flags, most of them homemade, with the names of favorite contestants…or possibility their zanpakutō, Byakuya couldn’t be certain which. 

The atmosphere was like a carnival.

They’d moved close enough to the edge of the former pit that Byakuya could see a few white haori scattered in the crowd. Even though his reserved section was still several feet further on, a familiar bright pink kimono waved at him to stop. 

“Ho there, Mr. Byakuya! I didn’t expect to see you here!” Kyōraku boomed happily. “You’ll have to come join us!”

Byakuya looked down, expecting to see Captain Ukitake there in the space beside Kyōraku on the blanket, but instead it was Captain Unohana, who smiled beatifically up at him. “We have a picnic,” she said happily, “And ice cold tea.”

It was that last that made Byakuya reconsider his first impulse to continue on. With a nod, he sank down into the spot Kyōraku had indicated. “That’s very generous of you, Captains.”

Despite having made the invitation, Kyōraku looked surprised when Byakuya sat. “Oh! I thought that was a prelude to a brush off! Well, excellent! Let me get you a bowl of tea.”

As Kyōraku fussed through the baskets, noisily discussing the placement of everything and pointing out other treats as he came across them, Unohana asked, “You’ve never come for the show before. What brings you out today?”

Byakuya never understood why, but it was impossible not to tell the truth when confronted by those large, kind eyes. “There’s a candidate for my vacant lieutenant seat among the Eleventh.”

“Really?” Kyōraku said, as he handed a chilled bowl of iced tea to Byakuya, “Who?”

Byakuya frowned and took a sip. What was the man’s name? It was gone from him, so he said, “Their Sixth Seat.”

Kyōraku exchanged a look with Unohana that Byakuya couldn’t read, especially since they both seemed to find something deeply amusing. Kyōraku let out such a belly laugh that he had to hold on to his hat as he tipped back. 

“Though they do say opposites attract,” Unohana said sweetly into her tea. “Perhaps your differences could complement each other.”

“Like night and day!” Kyōraku offered happily.

Byakuya sighed. This didn’t bode well. No, not at all.

#

By late afternoon, Byakuya was beginning to despair of seeing the Sixth Seat in action, having sat through numerous, tedious displays of violence. Most of the officers showed no finesse, their shikai variations of the same graceless melee type. Byakuya had no idea why Zaraki preferred all the simplistic crushing, mashing, banging, slicing, and bludgeoning. None of them seemed to be particularly trained beyond barbaric bashing, either.

Kyōraku and Unohana, meanwhile, guffawed their way through the Neanderthal brawling, as though it were the finest comedic entertainment. After each match, they’d put their heads together and gossip about each officer, comparing notes, discussing last year’s event, and dissecting each one’s style and improvement and gods knew what all.

Byakuya, meanwhile, was beyond caring. The last brute on the field had managed to spatter blood everywhere. Unohana had been quick with the parasol and had successfully defended both her and Kyōraku from the deluge, but Byakuya’s sleeve had been spattered by gore.

And, when Byakuya had tried to remove the offending goo, bits of stringy gross came with it.

Plus, the whole place was rank with the smell of blood and sweat in the summer heat.

Byakuya was just considering an appropriate excuse when a chant started up in the crowd: “Ren-ji, Ren-ji, Ren-ji….”

“Ah!” Kyōraku happily smacked Byakuya’s arm. “Your boy!”

“Oh,” Unohana noted with glee, “They’re mixing up the ranks this year. We won’t have to wait so long to see the higher numbers!”

Thank fate, Byakuya thought, as he offered Captain Kyōraku a handkerchief. He’d gotten a smudge of blood when he’d cuffed Byakuya’s arm. But, Kyōraku didn’t even notice the offer as his eyes were riveted to the pit. 

Byakuya turned to see what the excitement was about.

And, his heart just about froze.

This man… he was magnificent. He strode out into the field wearing nothing but ragged hakama, his zanpakutō already in release—a giant toothed blade—slung over his naked shoulder jauntily. He looked huge, well-over six-foot, and his well-muscled body was covered in tribal tattoos. There were tiger stripes on his arm and some kind of mesmerizing, interlocking pattern across his chest. Dark lines on his abdomen drew the eye to taut stomach and hipbones. As his moved further out into the ring, Byakuya could see there were lines on his back, too, more patterns that ended in twin lightening strikes that slashed down his spine towards his ass.

If that wasn’t enough, the summer sun made the crimson topknot on his head shimmer like fire. 

Byakuya had never seen anyone like this before in his life. 

“What do you think, Mr. Byakuya?” Kyōraku asked with a smirk.

Despite the possessiveness already rumbling deep in his groin, Byakuya said flatly, “I’ll reserve judgment until I see him fight.”

Kyōraku’s chuckle was far too knowing.

Because then it began and Byakuya was spellbound by the twisting, snapping whip-like blade of Zabimaru and the way muscle and sinew made tattoos twist and dance. Renji’s hair, so much like ruby flames, sent heat straight though Byakuya’s core.

Yes. He would have this man… this demon-possessed beast, with that sharp grin and wild eyes that showed no mercy, that cut through his enemy without hesitation, ruthlessly—no, joyfully, wickedly.

Byakuya had to bite back a moan of appreciation.

He would possess this man. Even if the beast couldn’t read or write, Byakuya wanted him as his own, under his command.

When the fight was over far too quickly, Byakuya joined the crowd in a disappointed groan, followed by a cheer when a second opponent approached. 

Yes, Byakuya thought, this he could watch all day.

#

Renji fought five more battles, each a little longer than the last. Byakuya was disappointed that there seemed to be some kind of gentlemen’s agreement between Renji and the Fifth Seat, Yumichika Ayasegawa, as he bowed out to let the prettier, slender man go next without a challenge.

“Why don’t they fight?” Byakuya asked Kyōraku.

“Because Renji won’t come between Yumichika and Ikkaku,” Kyōraku explained somewhat sloppily. He’d broken out the sake some hours ago. “Even though he could probably beat Yumichika, given Yumichika’s… handicap.”

Unohana nodded sagely, though Byakuya had no idea what they were talking about. Byakuya continued to frown, particularly when he saw the rather weak seeming shikai of the Fifth Seat. “Well, that’s disappointing,” Byakuya said. “Surely Renji could be their lieutenant.”

“Nobody fights the lieutenant, not if they want to live.” Unohana said. “Besides, Third Seat Madarame is Renji’s mentor. It’s a matter of respect not to challenge his… partner.”

Ah. Renji wouldn’t fight his teacher’s lover. 

Well, that was politic, Byakuya, supposed, if unfair. No wonder Renji, who seemed perfectly suited to this particular division, was ready to get out. He couldn’t hope to advance further so long as the lover stood between him and a promotion.

Well then, the matter was doubly-decided. With a nod to himself, Byakuya stood up. “Good day to you, Captains. I’ve seen enough.”

“Oh, you should really join in the group Luck-Luck dance,” Kyōraku said. “It’s fun!”

Byakuya wasn’t sure what a Luck-Luck dance entailed, but he was absolutely certain that there was no group activity he’d enjoy less. “Perhaps next time,” he lied. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Do you think you may have a lieutenant?” Unohana asked politely.

“We shall see,” Byakuya nodded, barely trusting himself to speak without giving himself away. “But, perhaps.”

#

It was another lie. There was no perhaps about it.

In fact, Byakuya couldn’t get the image of Renji Abarai’s body out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried. Any time he closed his eyes, Byakuya would remember the flow of muscle and tattoo and sunlight through, brilliant flaming topknot. What would that hair look like unbound? Would it be like blood or the cold fire of a ruby’s heart?

By the time he made it back to the division, Byakuya was in a fever. When the Third approached him at the gate, Byakuya just said, “File the paperwork. Renji Abarai is our new lieutenant. Have him brought here as soon as possible.”

“But… Taicho? You haven’t interviewed him.”

“I’ve seen him. It’s enough.”


End file.
